by Lisa Plumley
“Have you noticed that your armband has fallen off?”
Stricken, Dayna stared at her arm. It was true. The golden armband that T.J. had given her—the armband that matched his birthright mark tattoo and made them a bonded pair—was gone.
It won’t come off, Deuce had told her gravely, weeks ago. Not unless something really drastic happens. She guessed a complete breakdown in trust was a sufficiently drastic event.
Bereft, Dayna turned to the magus. “What does this mean for T.J.?” she asked. “If my armband is gone, is T.J.’s birthright mark tattoo gone, too?” With an erratic movement, she set down her teacup. “Someone once told me that, for a Patayan, removing a birthright mark tattoo is like removing a piece of your soul.”
Lost in concern, she gazed at the earth ship’s modern interior. If she’d somehow cost T.J. his soul, she would never—
“That’s interesting.” The magus gave Dayna a warmhearted smile. “Your first thought was for T.J.’s well-being instead of your own. Maybe the bond between you has strength yet.”
“No.” Forcibly snapping herself out of her worries, Dayna shook her head. “It doesn’t. I’d be an idiot to hope for that.”
“I hope for that. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Not for the first time, Dayna cursed her stupid habit of blurting out whatever she thought. The magus was too caring to be treated that way. “No. I’m so sorry. It’s just that—”
“He hurt you. I can see that. I can feel it.”
Dayna nodded. Her throat tightened. “T.J. didn’t believe in me. Just when I needed it most! He only looked at me. And even though I begged—I begged!—T.J. wouldn’t tell me what I needed to hear.” She elaborated, describing the scene between them at Deuce’s apartment before and after the IAB had taken T.J. into custody. “It was humiliating. It was…heartbreaking. I could tell he knew I needed his faith in me, but he stayed silent.”
“More than likely, he could not speak.”
“Or wouldn’t speak,” Dayna scoffed. “You know T.J.” But she’d already soaked up too much of the magus’s empathy. She sat up straighter. “That’s a problem for another day. The plan is set for the Followers to do their conversion today, and I—”
“Did T.J. believe you had betrayed him?”
“Yes.” Startled by the magus’s insight, Dayna stared. Then, with difficulty, she regrouped. “But the Followers are going—”
“We’ll get to the myrmidon. But first…I can see that you don’t understand what’s happened.” The magus gazed kindly at Dayna, one hand petting her loyal wolfhound. “For a Patayan, any betrayal causes physical pain—devastating physical pain. In the most extreme cases, it’s debilitating. We are guardians. We must trust those we protect. But if that trust is shattered…”
Dayna remembered the effort it had required for T.J. to call out to her when she’d been leaving Deuce’s apartment. He had seemed in pain then. At the time, she’d attributed T.J.’s harsh tone to his lack of faith in her. But if he’d actually felt betrayed, then he truly might not have been able to speak.
“You’re wrong.” Dayna shook her head, afraid to hope that she’d misunderstood him. “T.J. never really trusted me.”
“He became bonded with you. That’s the ultimate trust.”
Oh God. The magus might be right. Filled with remembrances, Dayna thought about when she’d coaxed T.J. into letting her give him that intimate, forbidden kiss. Go ahead. I trust you.
She’d never meant to betray his trust. And she hadn’t—at least not when she’d allowed him to be taken into IAB custody, Dayna realized. That had been an accident. But later, when she’d begged T.J. for an affirmation he’d been physically incapable of giving—when she’d refused to accept his belief in her without his spoken promise to back it up—then she’d betrayed him.
And she could never take it back.
“You must go to him,” the magus said. “There’s still time.”
Jolted by the wisewoman’s urgings, Dayna looked up. “T.J. is at the IAB headquarters. I’ll never reach him. My magic is weak. It’s erratic! I’ve never been able to depend on it.”
“It’s not your magic you must depend on. It’s yourself.”
Dayna gave her a sad smile. “You sound just like T.J.”
“Good.” The magus grinned back at her, her face bright with pleasure and pride. “Then some of my teachings have sunk in.”
But Dayna still wasn’t ready. “Isn’t there someone who can help me? Another Patayan? A guardian who’s equipped to cope with dangerous situations? Someone with extra-strong magic?”
“Magic is not what’s needed here.”
Frustrated and afraid, Dayna bit back a hasty retort. She should have known a wisewoman would have cryptic advice to offer. “I can’t deal with the Followers alone. I need help.”
The magus shook her head. “T.J. is the only Patayan with the strength and skill to handle such a threat. I know that he’s found the juweel. Maybe if you can reach her—”
“He didn’t tell me who the juweel is.”
“I’m sorry. He didn’t confide her name to me either.” The magus sighed. “I trusted him to enlist her help. But now that T.J. is in the custody of the IAB, and likely injured, too…”
The magus trailed off, but her silence spoke volumes. Dayna had gotten T.J. arrested—and she’d been the one to injure him, too. Now it was up to her to make things right. Somehow…
Chapter Twenty-Eight
By the time Dayna arrived at the IAB headquarters, all of Covenhaven’s touristy downtown was in chaos. Peering through the Mustang’s windshield, she maneuvered the vehicle as close as she dared to. Yellow police tape cordoned off the block where the bureau’s headquarters was located. Human officers stood beside their crookedly parked police cruisers and directed traffic past the area. They motioned with curt gestures for her to detour.
Beyond them, several of the downtown buildings sagged at weird angles. Tendrils of smoke lifted into the air. Debris littered the street. Firefighters still labored to extinguish a minor blaze near the café that sold ostrich burgers and pie.
Awkwardly, Dayna parked the Mustang. She got out and ran to the nearest officer, her heart pounding. “What happened here?”
“You’ll have to move along, ma’am. It’s not safe to stay.”
“Not safe? Why not?” To Dayna’s witchy gaze, the IAB headquarters sagged atop the nearby buildings, still magically hidden behind their decorative false fronts. “Was anyone hurt?” She grabbed the officer’s arm. “What happened?”
The officer’s gaze dropped to Dayna’s hand. “You’ll want to move your hand, ma’am,” the woman said. “And leave the area.”
“I can’t leave the area! I know someone who works in that building.” Dayna pointed to the shop closest to the IAB.
The officer’s demeanor softened. “Family and friends are gathering over there.” She nodded to a clump of onlookers—humans and witchfolk alike. “We’ll keep you updated when we have news.”
“Thank you.” Anxiously, Dayna crossed the street. She reached the nearest bystander. “What happened here?”
“Earthquake,” a warlock said. “Pretty bad one. Luckily, it happened just after dawn. Most of the shops weren’t open yet.”
The IAB must have been open, though, Dayna knew. T.J….
“It’s pretty surreal,” a witch told her. “An earthquake in Arizona. Sometimes we feel the big ones from California, though.”
Only half listening, Dayna focused on the IAB building. If she tried, she hoped, she could detect the presence of magical beings there, the same way she’d done at Janus last night.
But no auras met her gaze. No witchy clairvoyance arose to help her. The IAB headquarters appeared deserted. Without her golden armband to augment her bond with T.J., she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t nearby. But knowing him…She hoped he and Deuce had already gone, escaped from the IAB under their own power.
Now more than ever, it looked as thou
gh stopping the Followers was up to her—alone. Worried and fearful, Dayna raced back to Deuce’s Mustang. It was time for her last-ditch plan.
Grim-faced and determined, T.J. let the airstream he’d been riding die out. He dropped to the frost-tinged autumn soil and released Deuce. His partner tripped, then righted himself.
“Don’t ever do that again.” Deuce glared at him. To his left, the red-rock canyon gouged the earth. To his right, less than a mile from their location, the Janus Resort sprawled in all its artificial glory. “I would have preferred a damn broom to that!” Deuce yelled. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“That your car was gone and we needed to get here quickly.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the sympathy on my missing car, by the way.” Dolefully, Deuce shook his head. “I built that Mustang with my bare hands. I can’t believe it’s gone.”
“We’ll mourn your loss later. Let’s go.”
With Deuce swearing beside him, T.J. set off toward Janus. He hadn’t dared to bring them any closer—not when he’d used his warlock ability to ride the air currents to take them there. If someone had seen them arriving warlock-style, they’d have sounded an alarm—an alarm that would have spoiled everything. It had been risky enough to transport Deuce that way; T.J. would not have done it if he’d had a better option available.
From the top of the next rise, he scanned the resort just below them. The elegantly manicured grounds had been given over to the Hallowe’en Festival activities. Enormous tents perched atop the chemically nurtured grass, surrounded by vendors’ booths and even a few carnival-style rides. Pumpkins and Indian corn dotted the resort’s walkways in faux-rustic seasonal displays; entertainers from clowns to jugglers wandered past.
Tourists thronged the place, drawn by the festival ambience. Several TV news satellite vans parked along one edge of the overflowing parking lot. T.J. squinted, spotting their occupants milling among the visitors with cameras in hand.
Several of the humans were in costume. Children laughed and ran between the Hallowe’en tents with their faces painted, caramel apples on sticks wobbling in their hands. A band played on an improvised bandstand, its music wafting toward T.J.
It would not be easy to find Francesca among these crowds—or to catch her by surprise. Garmin had been right about that. It was possible that the vixen witch already knew about T.J.’s and Deuce’s escape from the IAB. She might be arming herself against them even now, summoning her fellow vixens to help her.
“This is risky,” he warned Deuce. “It might not go well.”
“I know. I’m in.” His partner inhaled, flexing his muscles in readiness. His gaze landed on T.J., then shifted to his arm. “I’m always in. Besides, I think we just got a lucky break.”
Frowning, T.J. stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean your birthright mark tattoo is gone.” Deuce pointed at his biceps. “It’s disappeared. See? Weird, right?”
T.J. looked. At the sight of his bare biceps, his heart twisted. He thought of his bonded witch and wondered where she was. Would Dayna really join Francesca’s pact? Or could T.J. somehow convince her to join with him…even without their bond?
“That’s good news, right?” Deuce asked. “You didn’t want to be bonded in the first place. Now I guess you’re not. Maybe this means your magic will get stronger and more predictable again.”
“Maybe.” Feeling bereft, T.J. stared at his arm. His bond with Dayna was gone. She was gone. Without her, he hardly cared what happened to him. “This is all the better for our mission. Come on. We have to find Sumner first. If my magus is right—”
“And she’s never wrong,” Deuce chimed in.
“—all we have to do is alert the juweel, then stand back and let her do her stuff. She’ll end the conflict herself.”
Decisively, T.J. started down the hill. After a few steps, he realized Deuce was not behind him. Confused, he glanced back.
Deuce gawked at him. “You’re supposed to get Sumner to save the day? That’s your mission? To let the juweel work alone?”
With a hard look, T.J. nodded. “Yes.”
“But you’ve never let anyone else take the lead,” Deuce argued. “You won’t even let me help you.”
“Yeah.” Tightly, T.J. motioned him downward. “So?”
“So I didn’t know that until now.” Swearing, Deuce scrambled after him. “Because you didn’t tell me.” He gazed at the resort as they rapidly approached it. “We are so screwed.”
With her tires squealing, Dayna pulled into the entryway at Janus. Her hands hurt from gripping the steering wheel; her heart ached from worrying about what had happened to T.J. and Deuce—and from wondering how in the world she was going to meet the challenge ahead. The only thing she knew for certain was that she could not do it alone. If there was one lesson she’d learned from spending all those years unlinked, it was that witches needed one another. Everyone needed one another. Remaining alone in the world was just asking for trouble.
Determinedly, she left Deuce’s Mustang with one of the valets. She hurried inside the resort, marveling at the crowds that had gathered. Everywhere she looked, human tourists mingled with warlocks and witches, blind to their companions’ true magical natures…and oblivious to the threat looming before them. She saw several of her cusping-witch classmates, too, all of them streaming toward the ballroom in formal attire.
Whoops. She’d almost forgotten—ostensibly, the reason everyone was here today was for graduation, then the Samhain Festival. With her heart pounding, Dayna ducked into an alcove.
The murmur of conversations swirled around her, combining with Janus’s New Age background music to create a low hum of activity. Within moments, Dayna had magiked herself into a silver cocktail dress and heels. Simultaneously proud of the improved magic that allowed her to accomplish the task and irked that she had to hobble herself with fancy clothes, she stuffed her human-made jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers into her backpack.
When she emerged in the lobby, everything glittered and shone. The place had been impressively prepped and polished by Janus’s conscientious witchfolk staff. A festive vibe filled the air as witchfolk continued to move toward the ballroom. The room had been enchanted, Dayna knew, to conceal the witchy activities that would be going on inside it today. No human would be the wiser about what she and her fellow witches would be doing—at least not until the newly empowered cusping witches poured out to forcibly convert the dozers outside at the festival.
Given Francesca’s charisma and influence, Dayna doubted any of her classmates—or any of the hundreds of other cusping witches who’d gathered in Covenhaven—would be able to resist the Followers’ scheme. They’d be emboldened by Francesca’s special invincibility-endowing cocktail, fired up by her enthusiasm, willing to do whatever was asked of them. That was the power—and the downside—of being linked. Once one witch went astray, it was nearly impossible to prevent others from joining her.
For what felt like the millionth time, Dayna wished T.J. were there. She missed him. She still loved him. But as she stepped inside the ballroom for the pregraduation reception, she resolutely set thoughts of her bonded tracer aside. She had a plan to carry out, and she had little time to do it in.
Deliberately, Dayna sought out Camille. She found her best friend chatting with several students from cusping-witch class, all of them gathered in a remote corner of the ballroom. Even as Dayna approached, more witches joined their group, most of them offering Camille self-conscious smiles. These witches were not popular or gifted, like Francesca, Sumner, and Lily. These witches possessed lackluster spells at best. These witches were ambivalent about practicing magic; they were not A students or teachers’ pets. But they were free spirits, like Dayna.
And that was why she needed them now.
She reached Camille and hugged her, doing her best to appear carefree. “Hi! You look beautiful. Thanks for your help.”
Her friend smiled. “Well, I did get almost everyone h
ere, just like you asked me on the phone. But I still don’t know why you wanted me to. Are you hoping for a last-minute study session? They still haven’t told us what the test will be, but—”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” The licensing test was the least of her worries now. But seeing Camille, Dayna was struck by a sudden wave of longing. She wished she were here for a real graduation celebration…not to thwart the Followers’ plans to take over the world. With effort, she focused. “I can’t tell you exactly what I need.” If she did, Dayna knew, a gifted witch like Francesca would instantly detect her deception. Nervously, she bit her lip. “But I promise it’s for a worthwhile cause.”
“Okay.” Camille shrugged. “That’s good enough for me.”
“Seriously.” Dayna frowned. “I mean it. This is important.”
“I get it.” A few witches who’d been standing near Camille overheard her. They nodded, too. “Just tell us what you need.”
“But…I’m not kidding. I’m going to have to ask you all to trust me.” Dayna gestured to include the surrounding witches. “I can’t tell you why until later. But I’m hoping that, on my signal, you’ll do whatever I do. No questions asked.”
They all gazed silently back at her. A few witches on the fringes of the group nodded; others glanced over their shoulders as though afraid of being overheard plotting together. Then one witch—one very unexceptional witch whom Dayna recognized from class—stepped forward. She offered her handshake.
“Whatever you want, Dayna,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
“Me, too,” another witch told her. “I trust you. We’ll help spread the word to the other cusping witches. Discreetly.”
“But…” Dayna gawked as several more witches came forward, all of them pledging their help. “You barely know me! You—”
“We know you. You’re the witch who defied Francesca.”
“Yeah. You’re the witch who ran away…and came back,” an awkward-looking witch said. “That was really brave of you.”
“You were terrible at magic,” another witch said. “But you kept trying. You worked really hard. That inspired me.”
